


speed up, ain’t no game

by petasos



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Davejade Week 2020, F/M, Implied/Referenced Sex, Period-Typical Sexism, Speakeasies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:35:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22826497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petasos/pseuds/petasos
Summary: “Who is more deadly than the male? A flapper.” - the Collegiate World.Dave meets a girl and gets a job, in that order.
Relationships: Jade Harley/Dave Strider
Comments: 8
Kudos: 16





	speed up, ain’t no game

**Author's Note:**

> spacetime week day six, prompt history! you may well see some more of this in the future. title from “lone digger” by caravan palace which i’ve been listening to a lot.

That gorgeous whistle bait in the fringed dress keeps giving you the eye, her hands running through her dark fluff of hair while she dances her way towards the bar. She’s wiggling her eyebrows at you, and you can tell she’s a little sloshed, but you’ve never been one to say no to a girl with a pretty face and legs like that (or a guy, for that matter, you share that much with your half-brother.)

When you slide a cool few dollars towards the bartender and tell him whatever drink she want’s on you, he looks at you like you’re insane. “You… uh, you don’t know who that is?” He takes the money anyways, puts it beneath the counter. Guess he’s new here, ‘cause you could steal that with ease knowing where he’s hiding it away - maybe the sunglasses you got on (they were free, since you pick-pocketed ‘em a year or two back. You’ve changed your ways, don’t get a worry in your pretty little head ‘bout that much. That’s what you told your sister, at least, when she found out how you got them) make you seem like you’re looking right at him and not at the cash drawer.

You shrug. “I’m new to New York.”

“That accent sounds Southern, so, uh, I’d guess not. That’s, well, that’s Jade Harley,” and he gestures sideways at her, his short brown hair. “Jacoby Harley’s granddaughter. He may be as lit up like a store window as they come, owns this speakeasy, but Harley’s sister, that’s Jeanne Crocker - big name in the WCTU.”

Well, damn. You cock your eyebrows at this kid - maybe he’s got something on his shoulders after all, giving you all this information without any clue who you are. “So, bad news?”

“Any idiot who goes after her tends to wind up in jail, so, yeah. I’d say so.”

That’s a challenge if you ever heard one. You get up off your barstool and head over to Ms. Jade Harley, pushing your hair back with one hand and adjusting your tie with the other. You’re no fool, you know some dames like the disheveled look. Not like any of ‘em are going around casting a kitten about how you look like a sex-drunk fool a good chunk of the time (you’re not that, but you’re also not _not_ that.)

She looks up at you from behind those round glasses when you sit down next to her, a smile flickering across her dark lips. She’s got eyelashes for days, longer than your own, and these gorgeous green eyes that you could just drown yourself in, holy shit. Some freckles, too - makes you feel a little less alone in that department. Not enough people get out in the sun, you guess. Well, this is New York.

“You’re not from around here,” she says. It’s not a question.

“Nah. I’ll give you two guesses where I am from, and the first one doesn’t count.”

“Lousiania? You look a bit New Orleans.”

You shake your head. “This seat taken?”

“It is now. Georgia?”

“Texas,” you say, and hold out a hand. She shakes it - her hands are calloused. Surprising development, but you won’t question it. “David Strider, but most folks call me Dave.”

“Jade. But I’m sure you already knew that. I saw you talking to Nitram.” She holds up her martini. “Thanks for this. He said you paid for it.”

“I’ve heard it’s rude to stare at a woman without paying for her drink.”

She laughs, and it’s the most beautiful sound you have ever heard, hands down. Sounds like a bell ringing out, and you’re half-surprised nobody else turns to see where that gorgeous noise originated from. You definitely want to make her laugh again, god _damn_. “I guess that’s one way of looking at it. What brings you to New York?”

“If I say I had no idea ‘til just now, would that be cheesy?”

She laughs again. Bingo. You’re the winner, it’s you. “I think that’s sort of sweet. Silly, but sweet.”

“Well, you should hear what they used to call me down south - Sweet Dave, on account of me bein’ so damn sweet.” You’d wink at her, but she wouldn’t be able to see it. Instead, you give her one of those half-grins that apparently make the people you’re wooing go wild.

She gives you one right back, and your face heats up. “Is that so?”

Challenge indeed. Maybe making her laugh was only step one. That’s fine, you don’t mind trying to go at this from another angle. “Yeah, you should see me with kids.” You pause, because wow that sounds a bit off. “I mean baby goats, not literal children.”

“Baby goats?”

“Yeah. Farmer boy, that’s me.” You’d show off the tans, but that’s not appropriate. “Turned fifteen and scrammed with my sisters and brother.” You gesture over your shoulder towards Rose, hitting on the pretty girl in the long jade-green dress in one corner. “No clue where Dirk and Roxanne are, but that’s Rose.”

“I’ve seen her around the past few nights, with Kanaya.”

You glance over your shoulder. “Is that her name?”

“She’s a singer here - you should hear her sing _Sweet Georgia Brown_ , she’s got the best rendition in New York, I think,” and Jade taps at your shoulder so you look back at her, and your face heats up a little more solely at that. “So what really brings you to New York?”

“I’m a bootlegger. So’s my brother.”

She giggles at that, her brows raised at you. “Are you now? That’s a bold claim. Could get you thrown in jail. You sure you don’t want to revise that statement?”

“Nope. It’s the truth.” You angle your head, listening to the swing music playing from the stage right in the middle of the speakeasy. “We’re looking for a more permanent place to call home right now - Chicago wasn’t a fan of our methods, I guess. Not everyone likes when their bootleggers get their hands dirty.”

“Oh, _the Frost_ ’s looking for some bootleggers. But you’d have to talk to my grandfather.”

You tilt your head. “That so? You got a lot of alcohol here.”

She leans in, and you can smell the alcohol on her breath, the smell of lilies lingering on her skin, and you wonder if maybe there’s a place around here for you after all. “I could always use some protection when I’m out on my runs.”

Wait.

“You’re a -”

“Yep.” She smiles at you, a look that’s somehow a lot sultrier than you think she realizes. By God, you’re in over your head, aren’t you? “What, can’t a girl do a job like that? Don’t be misogynistic, Dave.”

“Well, ma’am, I never said that, did I?”

“You were thinking it.”

(She’s not wrong.)

You drum your fingers against the bar. “I mean, if it means working closely with you…”

“It would. You better stay business, Mr. Strider, ‘cause I’m not a fan of complicating things when I’m working with someone.” She leans in, real close, and her perfume has got to be the most intoxicating thing you’ve ever smelled.

This is just plain attraction, you know that much. Sure, she’s got you on lockdown, can read you like an open book this far, knows exactly what to say the second you close your mouth. But you’re not looking for something serious. You’re nineteen, you’ve got an entire life ahead of you - and you’re sure she’s not looking for anything like that either.

“I think you’d change your mind after spendin’ a night with me.” You put your other hand on her thigh, which is probably the most dangerous move in this scenario, but she doesn’t do anything about it.

She laughs right up against your ear. “Isn’t that a bit forward? I’m a lady. Be a gentleman.”

“Most folks prefer it when I’m not.”

Jade pulls away from you, her face a bit red. Checkmate, you’ve got this shit good. God, are you trying to get in her skirt or get a job at this point?

“I think we can work something out. A... partnership of sorts. I really could use someone at my side when I’m out of here. The old guy got some _ideas_ in his head ‘bout where women should be. As long as you keep your _opinions_ to yourself...”

“Afraid I can’t do that, ma’am, I can’t keep my mouth shut long. Gotta keep talking, if I think it that shit just flows right out of my head.”

She laughs and smacks you lightly on the shoulder. “That’s incredibly vulgar.”

“That’s nothing. I’m turning it down a few notches just for you.”

She gets off the barstool, grabbing her martini and taking a sip, before handing the drink over to you. “Have the rest, I’ve got to turn in for the night. It was nice meeting you, Strider. I have a feeling we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other.”

And you watch her walk away with a swing in her hips and a weird feeling in your chest.


End file.
